All Things Considered
by Sunny33
Summary: Set sometimes after 4.14. Dean is in trouble, and the demon in his face is at least making him think about how he feels about his bro. Dean whumping. Hero Sam. Now Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Short story set some time after 4.14 and all the emotions and doubts that that epi dredged up for the boys. The sentences in itallics are Deans thoughts...I dunno it just doesn't look like itallics to me.

# I own nothing, only an odd desire to write about these characters on occasion, so please don't sue me. Instead, humour my sick sense of storytelling. And anyway, I am skint.

**All Things Considered**

Dean's head snapped up. Left eye swollen, but the right one could still see him.

"What is it with you people? One little slap and you're unconscious. Getting a little pathetic there, Dean." Oh, this demon was good. Dean licked his lips, enough water to form a spit ball, which he forced out as far as he could. The demon looked down at the gob on his well pressed trousers. No reaction.

"So, just to remind you...we were talking about your brother. You know the one. Tall. Charismatic. The go- getter. Not the one that's tied in a chair, begging for his life."

"Who's begging?" The demon bent down towards him, inches from his face.

"Oh, you will be."

Dean turned his head. "Man, that's halitosis with a hell-yeah! You do know there's a cure for that." No reaction.

Dean sighed. His head hurt. His arms ached, and there had to have been a few kicks to his abdomen to match the amount of pain he was feeling there. Blood dripped relentlessly onto his left thigh from a head wound unless he lifted his head and then it ran down his face, and all his good lines were being wasted on this new, badass demon built like a tank and newly qualified from the WWF school of fighting.

"Now," the demon continued. "Let me get this straight. You spent nearly all of your life...raising this...this thing you call family. Watching out for him, nurturing him, teaching him all you know. All your Daddy knew. Teaching him the finer points of loyalty, trust and of course, the value of sticking together. " The demon suppressed a smirk. "And you do all that, for years and years, sacrificing everything, and everyone, just to see him succeed in life...and yet, here you are - up to your arm pits in blood and shit and no sign of the cavalry." The demon spread his arms in mock amazement and watched Deans expression. No reaction.

"Tell me, Dean. Who is this Sam Winchester everyone keeps warning me about, 'cos right now? I aint impressed."

Dean considered the question for a beat. A sudden dizziness and nausea washing over him.

_He is my friend. _

"He's the guy that's gonna make you spew your life force onto the floor."

"Oh, yeah?"

_He looks out for me. _

"He's the man who is getting closer, every minute, every second."

The demon snorted, a sick smile under dead eyes.

_He is and has been, my saviour on countless occasions_.

"Oooh. Big words from a little man," the demon snarked, a putrid breath falling on Deans face again. "And tell me, boy. Do you ever doubt your brother? I mean doubt his abilities

to save your pathetic little backside once more?"

Dean managed to maintain eye contact.

_Yes. I doubt him. And no, he doesn't deserve it. _

Dean swallowed hard. His vision swimming now. Still had to play the game though.

"I never doubt the fact that he's the one that's gonna send your ass back to hell in a hand basket, and deep down...deep down in that rotted, disgusting, festering soul of yours, I think you have no idea what you're dealing with."

Dean almost slurred the last words of his monologue. The pain in his head was nearly blinding him now. If Sam could turn up and just do his hand fu-fighting any time now - well...well, despite it going against every grain in his body, Dean felt, on this occasion, right now, that it actually wouldn't be a bad thing. All things considered.

"Hmm. So, I should be quaking in my Italian leather shoes, huh?" Dean could see the smug face still smiling at him...but he knew he was losing it again. The noise in his ears told him so. And the darkness closing in around him told him that too. He could feel the demon grasping onto his hair, pulling his head back up towards his face again. "I mean, who is he, this great white hope of the human world? Who is the great Sam Winchester, huh?"

And then, the demon coughed. His face suddenly changed. His grip loosened. He brought his hand up to his mouth. He looked into it, as if expecting something to be there. But there was nothing. He wretched, his mouth gaping open in an obscene gesture of theatre of the worst kind.

He stumbled back, clutching at his throat, the black smoke belching out from his mouth and nose. His eyes sinking into a skull shaped hole of terror and despair. And as he turned, to seek out his attacker, there was Sam, standing tall and strong, determined and true.

"That's my brother." Dean whispered, before he closed his eyes and let his head fall.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The heat was intense. Beyond intense. Burning his hand, his face and neck. But, that's how it goes.

And then the fire was gone and he could breath again. The vacated shell of someone innocent lay at Dean's feet, whimpering and shifting in his utter confusion. The guy was bulked. Muscles bulged even at rest. Sam stood looking at Dean for a beat.

_God, look at him_.

Head bowed. Neck muscles strained. Blood on his jeans from a head wound. Tied up. Rope burnt.

"Dean?" He whispered. His knees cracked as he crouched down in front of his brother. One hand beneath his chin. Just a quick glance. Still breathing.

He fumbled with the knots – swore with frustration and pulled out his knife. Once loose, Dean's right arm just fell at his side – but he pulled his left towards himself. A pain reflex.

"Hey, hey...it's over...he's gone."

_I'm sorry I took so long. _

Sam worked quickly on the rope on Dean's ankles. Then Dean shifted slightly, his shoulders moving forward forcing Sam to hold him up with one hand while he pocketed the knife again. Dean's head tapped gently on Sam's shoulder, each dab leaving a bloodied mark on his jacket.

"Dean...speak to me, man," Sam insisted. He lifted his brother's chin away from him. His eyes flicked over the bruises on the right side and the cut on his head, further back than the usual suspect. Gentle breaths on Sam's face. His eyes started to open and focus.

"Oh...my God, S'm," Such pain in his voice.

"Where does it hurt most?" Sam withdrew his hand. Dean held his own head up, at last.

"Stomach." Dean's eyes rested onto the body of his tormentor, sprawled on the floor behind Sam. The man moved his legs. Sam followed Dean's gaze and looked behind him.

"I know," he turned back to his brother, "I wanted to get you into the car first."

_You're angry because I used my powers again._

The eye contact was almost unbearable. Sam looked away first. He stood up and gestured towards his brother to make a move. Dean remained still. Instead he simply looked up at Sam. Darkened eyes full of pain and exhaustion.

"Here, let me help," Sam whispered as he bent towards his brother, an arm down his back to initiate the movement. God knows how long he'd been strapped to that chair. He stood up, and immediately began to sink, his body leaning into Sam's frame. He clutched onto Sam's belt to steady himself.

"No...S'Okay... I can do it," he breathed, and they both stumbled towards the door.

At the motel, Sam drew a weary hand through his wet hair and glanced at Dean lying in bed. His thoughts returned to the moment when he'd actually found him. It could've been sooner.

But, priorities change when your only thought is...more. And, he always seemed to need...more.

Dean moved, and pushed away the covers from his chest. His eyes flicked open for a beat, before he turned his head to the right to see Sam's empty bed.

_You still look for me. _

Dean then saw Sam standing in the doorway, and relaxed. "Hey," was all he said.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked. He approached his own bed and gently sat down.

"Like shit," came the curt reply. "Gotta say though...you're timing was ...impeccable."

Sam smarted at the reality, jabbing at his brain.

"There wasn't time to get the knife," Sam began. "I know...I..."

"You saved me, Sam. And from more than just another beating," Dean closed his eyes. "That demon had the baddest breath on this earth. Damn near singed my hair."

Sam swallowed, and accepted the comment with a solemn nod. A release. That's what it felt like.

"Well, get some sleep. We're outta here in the morning, if you can make it." He stood up to walk around his bed. His eyes rested on his brother again. His mouth slightly opened. A slide back into blissful sleep.

_Next time, I'll be there sooner, Dean. I promise. _

THE END


End file.
